Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 9:32 PM CST
Ask for her number but don't ring...1 theory (III)
What was once an infinitely grand flourish, a fountain rising high into the morning air, sparkling gloriously in the full of the sun, an unconditional altruistic idealism which went way beyond romance, to the tiniest little quintessences of gentle, aching, poignant, passionate, sensitivity....is now...tired...stopped...nearly independent of conscious control. I just want peace. And quiet.
Though I think rarely of my last 'real' love, six months ago, it felt like the last door just shut in resignation. There's a difference between 'not being able to get back on' and 'not WANTING to get back on'...and I have somehow, ended up with the latter.
I've just got my son back legally 5 days a week, after the most heartbreaking absolute fight of my life...and I don't...we don't, need intrusions. Or upset. We don't need our routines disturbed for somebody who would ordinarily be given the keys to the palace, but will ultimately be just transient.
My son doesn't need his Dad ignoring him, chatting some shite on the phone to some temporary, when he has been patiently, and quietly waiting to have his bed time story read to him.
His needs matter most. Just like Max in "Where the wild things are"
He's not going to be just put aside and his gentle little wonderful needs ignored for a temporary nothing.
He matters WAY too much. He does. Kids do. It's our charge. It's our charge FROM LIFE. We're the adults. And we can't just abandon our kids. We can't walk out on them. We're the only ones able to stand up and fight for them, when they are too young to do it for themselves.
No Tim matters too much. And our own equilibrium matters way more than some passing moment of false, deluded passion anyway.
I can't exactly explain all that to the lovely Hungarian chemical engineer tomorrow though can I, before she goes home for the holidays?!
Where would I start and end...
Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 9:31 PM CST
Ask for her number but don't ring...one theory (II
I knew the reticence. I understood where it was coming from. I just wasn't about to go even DREAMING of letting someone in again. "No way. Not a fucking chance" a strong, protective, but angry part of me said.
"You're not going to just let some stupid bitch in, go getting all dreamy eyed, fall for some ridiculous trick of nature which clouds your whole vision, eats ENORMOUS amounts of time out of your life, go calling ANOTHER girl "Baby" and "Pet" and "Love" all over again, and it all go wallop in six months time for WHO KNOWS what reason this time."
I marvelled at how honest but cruel and discriminating your little 'angelic' inner voice can be, when you allow it to be honest with you. I knew she was a good girl. Okay, I didn't know that for a fact...but I could definitely sense a certain decency & caring way about her, which would assure me that the girl definitely didn't deserve to dismissed so insultingly & callously.
"It might just be the mood I'm in" I thought.
"I might wake up tomorrow, and go, you know what?? Fuckit!! Go and LIVE LIFE. Go and call that lovely girl up, and just be a boy with a girl. Simple. Don't complicate, or just, *don't worry*"
But I won't. I just couldn't be....arsed. No matter how good looking the lads thought she was, or my eye, for that matter. And no matter how 'well' she fit into my tabulated criteria list for important aspects regarding a potential girlfriend/partner.
And I will have less guilt pangs (than I would in the past) about her thoughts tomorrow as to why I never called. Though it would still bother me. She *was* a *good* girl. A nice person.
"Oh...was it because I told him what I was doing for a living??
Was it because I'm not Irish??
He must have thought I was drunk and silly maybe...
Maybe I'm not *that* attractive...
Did he have a girlfriend or wife?? The scumbag...
Was it just because that's what guys do?? Do they even CARE?? Do they even KNOW we wonder and worry incessantly when a guy doesn't call when he says he'll call..."
That list, I'm sure goes on ad infinitum.
Does she know....do you know...that we do care. But some or a lot of life's hard knocks and jaded disappointments, just can knock the spark right out of your heart, and we want to stop caring about how other people feel for a change...because we can't give it as much, any more.
(contd.)
Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 9:29 PM CST
Ask for her number, but don't ring...one theory (I
I played a gig tonight, with a five-piece band. There was a big crowd...big for this economic climate. The crowd seemed happy with the music we were playing, laughing & jumping, and swinging around the dance floor. The crowd were happy, *we* were happy.
Through the crowd I saw a shock of salt n pepper/blonde hair. A pretty girl in her late mid/late twenties, bouncing up and down, having fun. She was pretty, pretty attractive. I watched as she moved with the music. She had natural rhythm, and her dancing personified the efforts of our craft, in a beautiful visual representation of class & flair.
I am quite visual, and couldn't help but watch, admiring her vitality & soulful melding with the music. Her obviously vivacious spirit just seemed to bring the music to life. Every step, every sensual shake of the hips, in perfect time. We could *see* what we were playing mirrored in her perfect & sensual groove. It can be quite spell binding to watch somebody with such obvious rhythm, to see how the beat, the melody, how the essence of the music just comes to life in the dancer.
"How can we separate the dancer from the dance" eh?!
As I gazed on, I was rewarded with a brilliant flash of white pearlies, and a smile so bright, wild & full of *energy*, I was slightly bemused. I smiled back.
We played on, and the crowd danced on. The girl danced with more greater zest & enthusiasm. I was rewarded with more flashes of that fantastic smile.
The break came, and the band stood around by the bar, close to the stage though...ever watchful for some inebriated soul taking a magpie-like fancy to one of the instruments.
She obviously wanted to talk, and hovered close-by. So, I hovered at the edge of my group, and we started chatting.
A very easy, nice girl to talk to. Hungarian. A chemical engineer working in Cork the last four years. Though full of youth-like playfulness while dancing and having fun, she was pleasant, interesting & sweet. My eye liked her, that was for sure. She had beautiful chiseled features, a beautiful face and smile. She could have been a 'perfect' size 10, but was still nicely curvy despite her slightness. We spoke easily for a while, about her colleagues at work, her boss, and her excitement to go see her parents for Christmas.
Time flew and I had to get back on stage.
We finished the event on a very high note. The crowd roared for an encore, and we played Sweet Home Alabama. They were loved it, and the management knew it and acknowledged it with some winks and smiles.
We finished, and began packing up. The girl and her friend hovered again near the front of the stage. I could see all the signs. I knew it. And my friends were watching me closely. They obviously fancied her too, but were delighted for me in their own joking ways.
As I took down my gear, we spoke easily again. And yet, as we spoke, I just knew....I had not the fire in me to pursue her.
My brain constantly ran through all the facts.
"She's gorgeous, she's intelligent, she seems like somebody with a decent soul. She's got class. She's obviously 'into' you. Hey, she's even got a job! A girl earning more than you for once lad! Ha! She looks so lovely but elegant in her smart formal blouse and black tie."
Her makeup was done very nicely, tasteful though, not overdone. Her eyes shone as she smiled, and I wondered how soft that gorgeous hair would be to the touch.
"She smiles easily," I thought to myself, "naturally with happiness, but not unnecessarily so."
My eye kept jumping up, hoping the other parts of my being would join the chase.
The hunt is on guys!! There's your quarry!!"
I asked her for her number. She gave it, and liked that I somehow knew how to spell her Hungarian name without being told.
But my eye was alone in its eagerness. The rest of me, with all the knowledge of one who knows they are about to turn their back on some precious chance happening, but doesn't know why, just let out sighs.
(contd.)
Posted: Sat Feb 28, 2009 11:28 AM CST
Please try to be a nicer, kinder person PART 3
(Contd. from Part 2)
Sounds of the morning radio come to me through the doorway while I am having my toast, and James Blunt comes on with a song about some guy worrying about some relationship. After the song, there’s some heated debate about how hospital patients needs aren’t being properly met.
Differing images flash through my mind, of the ‘importance’ of Flor Griffin Expert Stores sales, and dolphins throats being casually and methodically slit open while alive, because we want tuna, and world markets ‘force’ tuna fishers to treat dolphins as competition. The value of B&Q’s 20% off power tools, and Hotpoint washing machines with bigger drums at Sound Store, seem to pale away with images of young boys in Sierra Leone getting their arms cut off, and more young boys being forced to murder and torture people in the film ‘Blood Diamond’. Daft Dave (an Irish fictitious commercial character) is on now, people have to have their marble and porcelain tiles - as cheap as possible, which is vital, and my tea is going cold so I have to put it in the microwave to re-heat it. Poor me.
And then I think back to a shot of one poor horribly disfigured sow, who was just left so terribly deformed by abuse, neglect and illness lying in filth upon a concrete floor. Open lesions, scars, cuts bruised tissue showed years of abuse all over her poor old body, left to die in that spot of some ordinary disease. Typically, a pig in her condition is just left to die, without food or water. Shur why bother. Her ribs bones and joints were showing through her cruelly marked skin. Nobody on the radio thought of this poor sow. Like me, they were all too worried about their relationships, and the health service. The only thing of beauty left about her were her lovely eyes, gently blinking, not being able to understand the cruelty vented on her since she came into this world. She was a long time there dying.
In the shower this morning, I thought about what a horribly greedy & cruel race we can be at times, and the damage we are doing all around us to just about everything. We seem to be totally concerned with our own little greedy selfish concerns, and use apathy and ignorance and ‘progress’ as an excuse.
I realised that my head just hung down, and my shoulders were slumped forward, and I was ashamed to be a human.
Please just try to be a kinder & nicer person to everyone & everything.
Hugh.
Posted: Sat Feb 28, 2009 11:27 AM CST
Please try to be a nicer, kinder person PART 2
(Contd. from Part 1)
Daily beatings with iron bars are, well, JUST commonplace…Mutilation, torture, sadistic torture for the satisfaction of bored and insane workers, UNBELIEVABLE neglect and conditions are all part of the horrific life for these lovely gentle animals. 40% of deaths occur from respiratory diseases. This is hardly surprising when you see the filth that they’re kept in all the time. Most places seem to be 80% concrete and 20% steel, and that’s it, no straw or bedding. The stench of excrement and decay is supposed to be unbearable for most workers. Added to this the fact that many bodies are just left to bloat and rot among living animals for days and weeks. The pig’s sense of smell is even more developed than a bloodhounds, by how much I can’t remember, but we all have heard stories of how they’re able to ‘root’ and dig up truffles 3 or 4 feet below the earth. NOW, consider having this extremely keen sense of smell and having a corpse lying next to you for a fortnight. AND, the fact that there’s excrement ALL OVER YOU, UNDER YOU AND ABOVE YOU. ALL THE TIME.
Those pigs that aren’t growing ‘quick enough’ are picked up by the rear legs by a big strong man - alive and lucid, and belted off the ground repeatedly ‘til their skulls eventually just crack. This is in an effort to save the pellets used in the bolt guns which are supposed to be used. The poor pig is alive and screaming with terror and agony the whole time until he’s dead, with blood and his brains seeping out of the many cracks to his head.
You can see for yourself, young little piglets being castrated by just crudely cutting and ripping and tearing until the testicles rip off. The worker looks like he’s just methodically trying to open a can. The poor little thing is wriggling & SCREAMING in agony the whole time, TOTALLY aware of what’s being done to him. I know pigs seem to ‘scream’ a lot, but this little thing was just SCREAMING WITH PAIN.
More images follow of some pigs which had been incorrectly ‘stunned’, and are thrown alive and terrified into the bath of scalding hot water which is used to remove the hair. It’s just heart rippingly cruel watching. You can’t hold back the tears that come to your eyes seeing them writhing in agony, just so I could have a jumbo breakfast roll instead of a plain old bowl of cereal. Awww poor me if I didn’t have it though.
(contd. in Part 3of3)
Posted: Sat Feb 28, 2009 11:24 AM CST
Please try to be a nicer, kinder person PART 1
Hi everyone,
This is Hugh.
For those of you who don’t know me long, “Hello, and apologies for this. Please bear with me”.
For those of you who I really need to get back to, “Sorry for not keeping in touch more. I can be a bit of a disaster. Please write if you would like.”
And for those of you who know me best, the relationship I have with you is still right where it’s always been - good, bad or so-so. Hopefully though, it’s good and intact.
I’m just sending this out now, because it’s far better than keeping a private rebellion.
I’m actually sending this here email to all my friends and family. I, for one, have been opting out of moral responsibilities long enough, and I think it‘s high time to make some stand. I may fall out with one or more, or all of you over what I’m writing here. If I do, then so be it. I do not intend to cause offense, or seem expectant or judgemental to anybody in any way, so if I do insult or offend you, it’s TOTALLY UNINTENDED.
For everyone, hope you’re all well.
I met a good friend of mine called Shirley in a restaurant in Dublin a month ago. She was ordering vegetarian, I was my usual carnivorous, blood-lusting self. I still possibly had an all too jaundiced view of vegetarians, ironically, seeing them as lacking in real ‘strength’ and being silly. I asked her why she was vegetarian. The one line which stuck with me was when, referring to the incredibly cruel treatment of animals raised for food, “….even in Ireland…”, she said she “…won’t be a part of any of it…”
Her selfless stance just really amazed me, something I wasn’t prepared to do, and I respected her greatly for it. I couldn’t just drift off into apathy this time, the way most human beings do, and it really left a mark on me.
Since that day I actually stopped eating any pig derived products, going on her solitary stance against it, and my own innate feeling that they are such intelligent, social & gentle animals. Something inside was telling me that they were meant for anything other than food.
I had come across pig-loving websites in the last year, before this conversation with Shirley, and pigs struck me as really intelligent, inquisitive, clean & caring souls. One site told the story of ‘Banjo’, a huge boar, who was both gentle as he was defensive of his owners. He was just some ‘ordinary’ breed of pig, big whitish / pink fellow, who could pick any lock supposedly (!), and was a tremendous source of comedy and affection and love to his owners.
Another one of hundreds of stories, shows the pig’s surprising intelligence. A young boy who lived in the country happened to make a pet out of a pig. In the summer when the weather was warm enough, he was able to swim in a local pond. But the family dog used to get very hyper with excitement, and jump on the boy in the water, clawing his back, making it impossible for him to enjoy or even continue swimming. Then one day seeing another repeat of the same dumb situation, his pet sow plopped into the water, and started swimming around between him and the fool of a dog, preventing him from happily jumping all over the boy. She kept a steady vigil of this, until she passed on. She became his life-guard, or life-pig!
And then last night, something again, made me google “Stop eating pigs”, and what I found was absolutely so stunningly horrific & heart-wrenching, that it’s just left me in tears again half the morning.
Due to the nobility of undercover animal rights activists, who no doubt endanger their own personal and social safety, there is a plethora of unbelievably shocking video evidence, of cruelty in factory farms and slaughter houses. They are, in the year 2007, modern day Auschwitz’s. The words ‘cruel‘, ‘sadistic’ and abominable just have no meaning until you actually see , with your own two peepers, the horror for yourself on video footage.
(contd. in Part 2)